Dragonborn Chronicles
by FalajaDragonborn
Summary: Bastard child of a Nord and banished from his own homeland, Falaja Nightwalker has decided to go to his father's home of Skyrim. Little does he know of what he will face and the power that is inside of him.
1. Chapter 1

(Warning: This story contains graphic violence and may also include sexual encounters. Viewer discretion is advised. Rating: MA only)

(Author's Note: I know this is the intro to the game, I just wanted to see if you enjoyed how I write my stories. Hail Sithis!)

Chapter One: Beginnings

Back and forth. Back and forth. As I slowly opened my eyes, I took notice of two things. What I first noticed was that I no longer wore my own clothes, but rough clothes that were made from burlap. Then I noticed another thing. I was in a horse-drawn cart and my hands were bound with thick rope that chafed my wrists. As I slowly lifted my head, I found my eyes looking directly at a Nord. As he took notice of me and stated, "Good, you're awake," I examined him. He wore a blue and brown hauberk, obviously of military origin. He had long blonde hair and a beard that looked more like stubble than an actual beard. His hands were bound and I noticed that he wore fur boots and gloves that were worn from use.

As I listened to him explain that we were currently prisoners, (which I had figured out from the ropes) I examined the other two men in the cart. One was a Breton who wore the same clothes as I but had long brown hair and drawn eyes. The other man looked a lot like the Nord in front of me, except for two things. First, he wore a bearskin cloak and was dressed like a noble. Secondly, his mouth was gagged, which I found odd.

My companions and I were being driven to what appeared to be a small town. The only thing strange about it was that it looked more like a military outpost then a real town. As we drove through the gates, I looked around, drinking in my surroundings. I noticed there was another cart and we were flanked by at least two horsemen. The town's gate was being patrolled by archers, which from the uniforms they wore, I was able to determine that they were soldiers of the Imperial Army. This only made my fears worsen as I had heard of their reputation and was not comforted by it.

"Look at him, General Tulius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." I could tell by the way he said this, that the Nord all but hated the Empire. Now while I will admit, I had little love for them either, I wasn't so vocal about it. As we trundled past some buildings, the townspeople pointed and whispered. One man told his son to go inside the house and not leave. I watched as the boy reluctantly agreed, and then became wide eyed as he saw me.

I will admit, half of the whisperings were directed at the other prisoners, and the other half was most likely directed at me. It's not everyday that a Khajit like me leaves the sands of his homeland and journeys into the cold northern waste known as Skyrim. As the reader most likely knows, you cannot imagine a person without a description, so I will tell you my appearance. I stand at 6' and am covered in coarse grey fur, with two lines of black streaking down the top of my head, all the way down to my feet. A long tail protruded from my backside and was currently wrapped around my hip and down my leg. I have long, catlike ears, with tufts of fur that protrude from the inside, as well as several rings that are pierced through my ears. My face was speckled with white and black dots around my nose and a long mustache protruded from my upper lip, with two gold rings at the end of each tip. I also am rather muscular and have three claw marks that stretch from the top of my left eye and down across the bridge of my nose.

No doubt I was a rather exotic sight. I had little time to think about this and realized with a jolt that the cart had stopped in front of what appeared to be an execution block. I then knew that my head would soon rest on it. As we filed off the cart a young soldier read off our names. When I stepped in front of him, he looked puzzled and checked his list. He asked me what my name was and in a voice that belonged to a Nord, I responded, "Falaja. Falaja Nightwalker."

The man looked surprised as he heard both my name and my voice. He turned to the armored women beside him, who I guessed was his commanding officer. "Captain," he asked in a nervous tone, "what should we do with this one; he's not on the list." The captain responded with a voice that answered his question and sealed my fate. "Forget the list, he goes to the block." "By your orders Captain." he responded, and then turned to me and reassured me that my remains would be returned home. I walked over to the block and watched as the executioner decapitated a young man, dressed in the same garb as the Nord who stood next to me, to the cheers of the crowd that had formed.

I was picked next and as I was picked, I heard what sounded like a loud roar. Prisoners and soldiers alike began to mutter with fear, looking around the town to see what had made that horrible sound. As I walked forward, another roar tore through the air. At this I leaned toward the Captain, for impending death gives one a queer sort of courage, and whispered in her ear, "It appears your brave and loyal soldiers seem to be about to wet themselves." At this she grabbed me by my neck, and pushed my head down onto the block. As I looked at the executioner, I noticed a flash of black appear over the horizon. As it disappeared from my sight, I heard men shout and call for the General.

"Archers! What do you see?!" cried the captain. At this moment the executioner, deadest on his gruesome work, lifted his heavy axe and prepared to separate my head from my body. And he almost would have, if a dragon hadn't plummeted from the sky at that moment and landed on the tower behind him. As its black, scaled body landed, it crushed stones beneath its feet and sent a jagged fragment into the executioner's neck. As he choked and spit out his own blood, collapsing to the ground, I knew that my situation had gotten worse.

I stood up and watched as the great beast let loose a mighty roar, causing a great storm to open up in the sky above him. For a moment, I stood there, terrified of this beast's power. I then heard a shout and turned to see the Nord that rode in my cart beckoning to me and telling me to run. I have never run faster than I did when I ran from that dragon. As I entered the keep, the door was bolted and secured as the Nord asked the man in the bearskin cloak (who now no longer had a gag) what was going on. He inquired if the legends could be true, and the man responded in a deep, commanding voice, "Legends don't burn down villages"

As he said this, I looked around, noticing that there were stairs that led to a higher up level. The Nord then turned to me, and told me to run and see if there was a way out upstairs. As I ascended the steps, the rope around my wrists chafing me with each step, I met a young man on the stairs who said that there was no way out. Suddenly, the wall next to him exploded, trapping him underneath some of the rubble. The Nord then cried a warning as the serpentine head of the dragon snaked in. It looked down upon the man, who was trying to move the rubble off of his legs. It's great, black maw opened, and a torrential fire poured out, incinerating the man, and left nothing but a burned and decaying corpse. As it pulled its head out and flew off the Nord cried out, "See that inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

My feet left the stone as I flew towards the roof. As I landed, I crouched and rolled to lessen the impact. The burning timber and thatch of the roof caused me to cough and sputter as the smoke filled my lungs. I stood up, and peered through the smoke, hacking and coughing at the same time. Locating the stairs, I stumbled down and out a hole in the inn's wall. I ran smack into the list reader as he pulled a little boy to safety. "Still alive prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to say that way." he said.

As we ran through the village, I watched in both fascination and horror as the dragon tore through the Imperial soldiers as if they were nothing but rolls of parchment. As the soldier and I ran through towards what appeared to be the barracks, we ran into the Nord, who had found himself an iron axe. "Raloff, you damn traitor, out of my way!" the soldier yelled. "We're escaping Hadvar," Raloff replied, "You're not stopping us this time." "Fine, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovengarde!" Hadvar shouted back. Both men then told me to follow them. As I had no love for the Empire, I decided to follow the man called Raloff. It was well that I did, for the dragon proceeded to land and snap up Hadvar in its jaws, much like how a mouse is snapped up by a cat. As I ran into the keep with Raloff, I continued to wonder if I would survive this horrible ideal. And as the door closed and the sounds of the keep being destroyed filled my ears, I knew that if I did, I would be the luckiest man alive.


	2. Chapter 2

(Warning: Story contains graphic violence and may also include sexual encounters. Viewer discretion is advised. Rating: MA only)

Chapter 2: Friend Among Enemies

"And don't come back you skooma-drinking thief!" yelled the guards as they threw me out of the prison. I landed on the ground with a fwump, my hide armor cushioning the fall. Unlike what most people believe, even though us Khajit look and sometimes act like cats, we don't land on our feet like they do, unfortunately. The guard's laughter was cut off as they closed the door. _Racist fucking Nords, _I thought to myself, _accusing me of stealing when it was that damn singer, what was his name, ah, Mikael. I'll fix that bastard if it's the last thing I do._ But at that point, the voice of reason chimed in. _Right, and then the guards can arrest you for good._

As I walked along, pondering to myself, I began to near the marketplace. As I descended the steps, lost in thought, I suddenly crashed into somebody. As soon as my body left the earth, I began to assess the dangers. I glanced to see who I had collided with. As soon as I did though, my heart stopped. Falling alongside with me was the most beautiful Nord that I had ever laid eyes on. She was wearing a blue dress, homemade by the look of it, with an iron dagger strapped to her waist. She wore a leather corset over her dress and tan boots. Her closed cropped hair, now streaming around her face, was a shade of ruby red that you could only find in a rose.

Wishing no harm to come to this woman, I grasped her and pulled her close, cushioning her fall with my body. Sadly, my arm had no cushioning and promptly broke as I landed on the hard stone that made up the market square. As I lay there, releasing the woman from my grasp, I dimly perceived a small crowd had gathered, muttering amongst themselves.

"Is that Ysolda?"

"What's that cat doing with her?"

"Bet he tried to steal her gold and then they both fell."

"Somebody get the guards! Tell them we have an accident in the market!"

It was not long before a few guards arrived. By that point, I was sitting on top of the lip of the well, and the woman, who I assumed was Ysolda, was sitting on a crate by the jewelry stall. The guards began to question bystanders as to what happened. The stories ranged from I tried to catch her to I tried to rob her. Nobody apparently cared to the fact that I was clutching my arm and was in a lot of pain. Looking at the beauty that I had saved though, it was worth it.

The next day, I was sitting in Breezehome. My arm was fortunately on the mend. I planned to go hunting today. As I settled down at my table to drown my temporary sorrows in a mug of Blackbriar Mead, I heard a knock at my door. Curious, I opened it to find the girl from the marketplace standing at my door. She looked at me with a sense of both wonder and dare I say it, glee? "Hello, is this the house of, um, Fulujay …" she trailed off as she noticed that I was giving her blank stare. "My name is pronounced Falaja," I said in my deep, Nordic voice, "If you have trouble saying it, you can call me Nightwalker. Now I don't believe in keeping a young woman like yourself out in the cold, so would you kindly come inside?"

At this, she stammered and seemed flustered, so I took her by the arm and shut the door behind her. "Sit down by the fire, and tell me what brings you here." I moved to the cabinet where I kept some spare bottles of mead. Grabbing two bottles, (I forgot about the already full mug that I had) I sat down in the chair next to hers, filled a blue ceramic cup, and offered it to her. She took it into her hands and sipped at it, obviously nervous around me. I then realized one of the reasons she was nervous was probably because I forgot to put on a shirt. Things like that slip your mind when you are more concerned about your life than anything else. Embarrassed, I walked upstairs and grabbed a shirt from my wardrobe.

As I walked downstairs, I noticed that while she hadn't moved from her spot, she was intently studying my house. Sitting down I promptly swallowed my drink in one gulp. "So, you probably came here to say thanks, which you don't need to," I said, "I appreciate the gesture and all but it's late and…" "Can you help me earn your boss' trust?" The words exploded out of her so violently that I was caught off guard.

"My boss?"

"You don't work for the traders?"

"No, what makes you think I do?"

"It's just that, um, well, you're a Khajit, and you are a long way from home, so I assumed that you were, well, working for them?"

At this I grasped my war axe from the table and slammed it into the wood of the table. I leaned close to her and growled "So, 'cause I'm a cat, you think I don't make my own path in this world? That I follow others and become their servants? You think I risk my life for another man's gold? Is that what you think?!" I practically yelled the last sentence, inches from her face. "I-I ju-just assumed that y-you…" she said, quivering in terror. The silence that followed lasted for what seemed like ages, until I exploded into laughter. "By the Nine! You should have seen the look on your face!" I fell onto the floor, clutching my stomach as I howled.

Her brow furrowed as she frowned, looking down on me. "That was a pretty low trick and you know it." I didn't respond as I was breathless from laughing so hard. Seeing that I wasn't going to be able to take her seriously from now on, she gave me a sharp kick. She managed to hit the exact spot on my arm where I had broken it previously. I hissed in pain, causing my ears to stand at attention. I gave her a look that, if possible, would have killed her. She just smirked at me, her previous fear having left her, and said, "So, do you want to hear my business proposal, or not?

I perked up at the sound of that. Unless it was a bounty letter or a job from one of the caravans, I rarely had work proposed to me. I sat back down in my chair and leaned back, the warmth of the fire on my legs. "What kind of job?" I inquired. "Well, as I have told you, I want to earn the caravans' trust. And there leader proposed that if I got him a mammoth tusk, he would do business with me." "So, what, you want me to guard the shipment or something?" "No," she responded, "I want you to help me get it from one of the giants' herds." I leaned forward and stared at her quizzically. "Unless you know how to speak the giants' tongue and have something to trade for one of their mammoths, I doubt they will give up one willingly." "Well, I was hoping you could help me with that."

I leaned back and let out a sigh. "Well, I was planning on clearing that giant camp by the city for the bounty, so I guess you could come along. What combat experience do you have?" She looked down into her lap. "Yes, that's the problem; I don't know how to fight. The most experience I've had with fighting was when I stabbed a man for trying to steal from me." Noticing me about to interject, she continued. "I also have decided to hire Amren, the Redguard that lives here, have you met him?" I nodded, remembering the time that I fought through a group of bandits to retrieve his father's sword. "If you want to do the job, then meet us tomorrow by the gate. We'll wait until noon."

She stood up and walked to the door. She paused as she opened it, "Oh, and by the way, it was nice to meet you Falaja." And as soon as those words left her lips, I made up my mind to help her.


	3. Chapter 3

(Warning: Story contains graphic violence and may also include sexual encounters. Viewer discretion is advised. Rating: MA only)

Chapter 3: The Job

The ground was cold and wet and I could smell mammoth dung. All in all, it was an average day near the giant's camp known as Bleakwind Basin. I looked over at Amren, as he crouched beside me. He was nervous, his breath coming out in big, white puffs. He looked back at me and grinned. "She's not one for the cold, is she?" I looked back at Ysolda. In addition to her dress, she wore a fur-trimmed coat with a large hood. "Aye," I responded, "makes me wonder why she wants to trade with the caravans if she can't even take a slight breeze." Amren chuckled. "Alright, back to the task at hand."

I nodded and we crept forward, trying to be as quiet as possible. I moved behind a rock as Amren drew his sword. I pulled out my father's bow. It was a beautiful bow, made from ebony ore and strung with mammoth sinew; it was a strong weapon, capable of putting an arrow through three men at once. My mind temporarily recalled a bittersweet memory of the first hunt I went on with him.

_A wildebeest stood before us, grazing by an oasis. He watched as his father pulled on the string of his bow, arms and back flexing. His father let go, sending one of his ebony-tipped arrows on a deadly arc towards the beast's heart. It struck true, sending a fountain of blood onto the sand as it sliced through both meat and arteries. 'Well, go on now, slice her up.' He eagerly rushed forward, wanting to prove to his father how well he had learned since the last time. 'I'm going behind this bush and doing my business, holler if you need my help.' He waved him off, cutting the meat off the beast with his knife. A few minutes later, he felt someone behind him. 'It's alright Father. I know how to skin an animal.' 'Good,' said a raspy voice, 'then you'll fetch me a decent piece of coin.'_

_He turned, saw the voice that had spoken. It was a very thin khajit, who looked to be under the influence of skooma. He grabbed him and held a dagger at his throat. 'Now don't sssssay anything or I'll ssssslit your throat.' Just as he was about to drag him away, an arrow shot straight his shoulder, causing him to yell in pain and drop him. He looked to see his father standing on the lip of the oasis. The khajit dropped to his knees and began to beg. 'Please sssssir, mercy!' 'You threaten to kill my boy!' His father shouted. 'And you expect mercy?' And with that, he let loose the arrow._

I shook my head, clearing the memory from my mind. No use dwelling in the past. I readied my first arrow and pointed it at the first m. Before I let loose, I whistled to Amren. He nodded, and then charged forward, brandishing his sword and screaming like a banshee, as he headed for the other giant. They big oaf I was aiming at turned, presenting me my target; the back of his neck. I fired, then charged forward, drawing my matching dagger as I did so. Coming behind the giant, I thrust through his eyeball, killing him and putting him out of his misery. Pulling it out, I noticed to my amusement that is eye remained on the blade, pink and glistening, blood oozing from the opening I had cut through it. I flicked it off, then dashed towards where Amren was busy fighting the other one. As I dashed towards the giant's legs, I slid between them, slicing through the tendons on his lower calves. It cried out in pain as it fell to its knees, giving my friend his chance to slice off its head.

The blade went through cleanly, slicing through the thick muscle and bone. Blood came gushing out as the head hit the turf, rolling till it plopped into the nearby pond. "I would guess that he is dead." Amren said. "Aye, now let's allow Ysolda the pick of the herd."

We walked back to where she sat, waiting for us. I motioned over my shoulder to the three mammoths behind me. "Which one do you want?"


End file.
